


King of Anything

by secretly_a_savior



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Explicit Language, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Destructive Tony Stark, Steve is dead, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark needs a new coping mechanism, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who died and put you in charge, Stark?” Clint snarled, knowing as he looked into the other’s brown eyes it wasn’t the right thing to say. </p><p>“Steve Rogers did.” Tony told the other, more pain than anger lacing his voice this time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of Anything

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this takes place in some ungodly mix of Marvel universes. My idealized versions of the characters used, I guess, favorite traits and timelines for each one, and of course a major canon divergence. Don't haTE ME. Anyway yeah this is super sad and I'm not even sorry.
> 
> Beta'd by magpie (40ssoldier.tumblr)

Tony Stark resented Clint Barton. With all of his heart felt nothing but a _burning resentment_ for the man that stood before him. He wore his face in a scowl and his fists balled up at his sides. If Steve were there, he’d calm Tony- soft nothings under his breath, _‘babe, you’re fine now._ ’ and _‘he tried’_ \- he’d let his hands go slack, rake a hand through his hair and let Clint speak, but Steve **wasn’t there.**

“You almost got us all killed out there, _Hawkeye._ ” he spat, getting into the taller man’s face. The rest of the team stood in silence- knew better than to get between Clint and Tony when they fought.

“Are you kidding me? **What?”** asked the archer in loud disbelief. He stopped habitually signing his words halfway through his words, his thoughts stopping and running away from him. It was either an explosive arrow at the goon or Stark was a goner, at least from where he stood. He figured Tony would take better to a bit of heat and smoke than he would an electrified bullet through his skull. He **saved** Tony’s **life**. And it was no mistake he was looking out for Tony when Natasha needed the cover more- but the guilt he felt always dissipated in fights like this.

“What, I’m sorry do you need to _read my fucking lips_ , Barton?” Tony inquired, enunciating each word carefully. He knew that was low- but all he felt was hurt and anger. Not only had the explosion perforated his armor- Natasha and The Hulk needed the cover more, and they both came back worse for wear.

Tony would rather have taken the bullet. He didn’t immediately confront that thought, instead, watched out of the corner of his bloodshot-from-battle eyes as Natasha’s eyes darted towards him. She was _clearly_ angry about the ‘reading lips’ quip- she stayed out of it though. Something else showed through in her eyes. Was it **pity**? _It couldn’t be._

“Yeah, maybe I **fucking do** , _Stark_ -” he paused, biting the inside of his lip in rage and cracking his knuckles. “- because I must be hearing you wrong. You’re saying I almost got all of us killed when what I did was save your LIFE.” He curled his lip up and unclenched his hands, turning on his heel and bringing his hands up to run them through his dirty blonde hair. How fucking dare Stark? Stark was alive because of him! He should be thankful. Not angry.

  
“That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying, and you know it, because you not only injured me- but you left Natasha to not only control Bruce- which, may I remind you is the **entire reason we brought you on board in the first place** \- but she took quite a bit of fire. The Black Widow shouldn’t leave a _**RECONNAISSANCE**_ mission looking like that!” he gestured towards her, poison in his voice as he spoke to Hawkeye. “You need to get your shit straight, Clint. I’ll see you at  08:30 tomorrow and we’ll talk about this. You’re all dismissed.”

No one left. They stood in stunned silence.

 

Clint scoffed, and turned back around- a sharp about face- to look at Tony. What a sad man to be acting so aggressively over a _maybe poor_ judgement call- one that saved him, even. Natasha hadn’t even completed the objective of the mission **for fuck’s sake!** And he was getting chewed out? _Disgusting._

Clint knew why Tony was a sad man- he didn’t let it affect him. He should’ve- should’ve stepped off. This couldn’t go anywhere good; but he let anger blind him. Stayed stoic and angry and full of absolute incredulousness that the Iron Man could be so upset over something so trivial. Did he have a deathwish or something? He got right back into Tony’s face, boiling over with anger, his whole body tense. “Who died and put you in charge, Stark?” he snarled, knowing as he looked into the other’s brown eyes it wasn’t the right thing to say.

He wished he could take it back- wished he could take it all back

All Tony saw as he looked at Clint were shining, tearful blue eyes and pretty blonde hair that still looked perfect despite the blood and dust that covered it. All he felt when he looked at Clint was the weight- the sheer weight of his team captain, his friend, his lover dying in his arms. All he heard was the same eight words over and over and over, like a broken record. _“I love you, Tony Stark. Don’t forget that.”_ It made his blood boil, it made his heart sink, it made a lump form in his throat.

“ **Steve Rogers** did.” he told the other, more pain than anger lacing his voice this time around. “And if I recall correctly, he took a bullet- took a rocket, _sorry-_ for you. To save your life, to save _**your**_ wife and children from growing up without a husband or a father. So **maybe** show some respect.” he sighed, putting his hands up in resignation and stepping back, lip curled in something akin to fury. The silence was heavy in the room, and Tony was gone before Clint could choke out an ‘I’m sorry,’ the automatic door hissing and slamming as he walked out.

Tony walked with purpose down the hallway; he needed a drink. He needed a lot of things actually: needed a drink, a bullet through the brain, a god to pray to, But most of all he needed Steve Rogers. He sighed at the thought, falling defeated into a seat. If Steve was there he’d sit right on Tony’s lap, size difference be damned. He’d cover him in kisses, they’d exchange sweet nothings and ‘ _I love yous_ ’; But **Steve wasn’t there.**


End file.
